Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Happy Halloween!

We somehow managed to survive the first plague outbreak of the season these past few weeks and we're now set in all of our ninja/batman/piggy girl/lambie glory...ready to take these candy-hoarding neighborhoods by storm!

The weeks are flying by and soon it will be Thanksgiving. And then Christmas. And then Riley will be graduating high school and I'll have no kids to blame for the fact that I can't finish anything I start. It's the truth.

Hope things are great in your neighborhood!


Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Attack of the boy-eating October tale.

We could start this tale with "it was a dark and stormy night..." but let's face it...this is Houston.

Our story begins with "it was a humid and overdue bedtime..."

I had just sat down at my quill and ink when I heard a ear-piecing scream arise from the garderobe. Worried that some manner of befoulment had imposed itself upon my beloved Boy Wonder, I threw back the chamber pot door and espied a most foul beast.

Known only as Roachzilla, this mythic beast had terrorized much of my youth in West Texas. Quick to dart out from beneath my slippers or jump at me when I threw back a cupboard door too quickly, this foul beast was lost from my memory for the eight long years I lived up north...where harsh, long winters spared us from this dastardly cockroach-iness.

But we had just taken up residence in our new manor house and were not prepared for such savagery. With no manner of defense or protection, we have taken the only recourse left to us...we have slammed shut the chamber pot door and anxiously await the late arrival of the lord of the manor, wherein he will dispatch the creature with due diligence.

Until then, we wait...knowing the creature breathes behind a slim door of nothing more than particle board and lead-based can hear us. It smells our fear. We cannot hold out much longer...

*quick translation: big a#% roach nearly gave dom a heart attack while he was on the toilet. i was no help, either, so we are waiting for P to come home and kill the damn thing!*


...dirty little feet...

...dirty little feet...

run through this cluttered little apartment
and grubby little hands
leave behind smudged spoons and chipped glasses
until there is nothing left to drink from but cloudy measuring cups.

loud little voices
holler and fuss and fight and shriek
and leave toys and socks and crayons 
littered about ...
my living room an overgrown battlefield
after they're long asleep.

dirty little feet
slide around in a slick little tub--
washing away the tears and the sighs and the battles
that i won and that i didn't win



Wednesday, October 3, 2012

This is Riley.

This is Riley.

This is the ninja baby. This one insisted that we weren't done.

This is what eight weeks old looks like. This is what the youngest of four looks like. This is expected to be the wild one.

This one is the spitting image of her brother Boo. This one has the sweet temperament of her big sister.

This one needs to be included in the attention during the day or this one will make you pay in the overnight hours.

This one was born on a Tuesday. This one completed our family.

This one teachers me about unconditional faith.